


Freedom

by EstherRuth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little dark and a little sweet, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Sansa Stark, But he's only here to die, Dark(ish) Jonsa, F/M, Forbidden Love, Half-Sibling Incest, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Short One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherRuth/pseuds/EstherRuth
Summary: She was beautiful, but beneath all that radiance was the icy cut of her blue eyes as she took in Ramsay’s form. That glamour mixed with her righteous anger; it made her look every inch the Mob Princess she was—the notorious gangster Ned Stark’s daughter.His own sister.----Jon knows Sansa needs to kill Ramsay herself and he'll give her anything she wants. Not just because she is his sister, but because he hopelessly is in love with her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 127





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Never written smut before and I don't know if this is any good honestly. Sansa kills Ramsay. Jon and Sansa fuck. That's it, that's the fic. Some dialogue taken from the show.

They had him. _Finally_ _,_ they had him. Ramsay Bolton was tied to a chair in a room with four white walls that was otherwise empty, save Ramsay himself. And Jon. Jon stood back, leaning against the wall, waiting.

Waiting for Sansa. He had wanted to kill Ramsay himself, had rejoiced when the bones in Ramsay’s face had broken beneath his fists. But he knew this belonged to Sansa. Whatever way she wanted it; she would have it. It would be like that in all things, he knew he’d give Sansa anything her heart desired, after she had stolen his own right from his chest.

His own sister.

The door opened then, and Sansa walked in, wearing a blue dress that looked soft as velvet. Her hair was flowing down in elegant waves. Her nails painted a soft shade of pink. She was beautiful, but beneath all that radiance was the icy cut of her blue eyes as she took in Ramsay’s form. That glamour mixed with her righteous anger; it made her look every inch the Mob Princess she was—the notorious gangster Ned Stark’s daughter.

His own sister.

If he reminded himself enough, perhaps it would stop the thoughts and the feelings she stirred within him. But that was a lie. He knew that would never happen. That’d he’d never stop.

After she closed the door, she looked to Jon. And some of that rage within her was tempered. She looked a little more unsure. He approached her and touched her shoulder lightly, and her hand went up for a moment to wrap around his wrist, like she was holding him right there. She held her other hand out for him, and he knew what she was after.

He pulled the knife from his suit and let her grasp its pearl handle. “It goes however you want, Sansa,” he repeated what he told her before. She could have one of his guns instead, if she wanted. But she gripped the knife. He understood. The knife was more personal. She needed this.

She stalked over to Ramsay then, and Jon kept a respectable distance, close enough to spring into action should she need it. She pulled Ramsay’s hair, forcing his face upward. She took the gag from his mouth.

Ramsay pulled his broken face into the best approximation of his menacing grin. “Hello, my darling,” he said.

“I’m not your darling,” Sansa said in a deep steady voice. Jon found it intimidating and thrilling. She was powerful, a force, a weapon all on her own. She was glorious. Jon fell even more in love with her that moment, if such a thing were possible. 

His own sister.

“I’m a part of you now, Sansa. You’ll never be free of me. Not after all we’ve been through together, sweetness,” Ramsay crooned.

Sansa laughed. Bitterly, acidic. “You believe that, do you?” Jon watched her, a predator intent on its prey. He knew how much she needed this.

“No, you’re not part of me. I won’t have you with me when you’re gone. Your house will disappear. Your words will disappear. All memory of you will disappear. The Bolton family is extinguished, because you saw to that, didn’t you? No one will cry for you; no one will care. Do you know why, Ramsay? Because you’re no one. You’re nothing.”

And with that she slashed the blade against his throat, his blood cascading down his torso, choking and gurgling until he was silent. And Sansa stepped back once he was dead. Her dress and her hands still bloody. She dropped the knife to the floor and swiftly turned away, walked out of the room.

It wasn’t a moment later that Jon ordered his men into the room to handle the mess and the body and was going after her. She needed this. He knew. But he also knew that didn’t make it easy. He followed her to an upstairs bathroom, opened the door to find her washing her hands in the sink. He closed the door. Locked it.

She looked up at him for a moment and then back to her hands beneath the hot water. She finished, dried and then braced her hands along the sink. Every muscle in her body appeared taut. Ready to strike. He took a tentative step forward. “Sansa,” he said softly, like a question. Asking what, he wasn’t sure. If she was okay. What she needed now. What she needed from him.

And she looked at him then, her eyes just as intense as before but with something entirely different suffusing them. Though he wasn’t sure what that was.

And then she was kissing him.

His own sister.

And he eagerly responded to her mouth against his. Just like all his fantasies. He pulled her against him, grasped her hip with one hand, dug into her hair with the other. He licked her bottom lip prompting her to open to him. And he tasted the sweetness of her as their tongues seemed to fight for dominance. When he felt her teeth nip his lip, he let out a deep groan.

And with that he lost all control. He was turning them around, backing her up against the door, lifting her skirt, hoisting her upward, urging her legs to wrap around his hips. It was a feverish thing, with no words, panting and she was ripping his suit’s jacket off him, unbuttoning his pants. He had torn her panties off somewhere in the middle of the daze. He had never wanted anything as much as this. Wanted her. His lips and tongue traced along her neck, her jaw, back to her mouth and suddenly he was thrusting inside her. _Finally._ She cried out, gripped him harder. He grunted, overcome with the feeling of her depths wrapped around him.

He thrusted harder and faster. Deeper. Uncaring for the shaking of the door, of how others may hear her moans, pounding into her with abandon, with all the desire he’d been restraining until now. He never wanted this to end. He realized they both needed this too. And he was unrepentant. It was always leading to this, even if he didn’t know it until now. He’d never imagined she would want him back.

He fucked her against the bathroom door. Fucked her until she was moaning his name and coming on his cock and he felt he might go blind from the pleasure coursing through his body. His knees felt weak. He slammed inside her repeatedly, desperately, moaning with every thrust, until he was coming inside her with a groan of her name as he wrenched another orgasm from her body as he spilled inside her.

And they slumped against each other with exhaustion, catching their breath as he pulled out of her, still holding her against him. Buried his face in her neck. Held her tight. Kissed her shoulder gently in adoration. “I love you,” he breathed. Knowing she would understand how he meant it. _Not_ like a brother.There were no more secrets between them now. It didn’t scare him anymore. They were finally free.

She looked at him, smiled, and lifted her palm to his cheek, gently. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's basically no context but I'm sure we can all assume Ramsay gets what he deserves here. I also have no idea if the smut is any good, but the story wouldn't leave my head so *shrugs*. Hopefully you like it.


End file.
